Forbidden Fruit
by Schnucki08
Summary: Katniss rebels in her own way before the 74th Hunger Games, even knowing she really shouldn't. 2nd pov, rated MA for a reason!


Disclaimer: I own nothing.

You know you shouldn't even think about doing this, even while you let him get closer and still closer to you. You know that, three days from now, he is going to be your biggest worry. A true Career Tribute, who won't hesitate to kill you, who knows that he inspires terror in everyone who looks at him, including you. You're afraid of him and he knows it.

But right now, fear is not what he wants from you. His darkened eyes shine, but not with the usual bloodlust, but pure desire. For you.

You've seen him looking at you before. At the opening parade. At the first day of training today. Not an ounce of shame or embarrassment in his cold, blue eyes when you caught him staring at you with an intensity that almost made you shiver. Like he's doing now.

He wants you. Simple and incredibly complicated at the same time. You shouldn't allow it, shouldn't even contemplate it. You should have ignored him when he brushed his big hands down your sides and his lips along your ear, telling you to meet him here, in this corner of the windy roof.

He is probably going to be your death. But first he wants you to live. With him. The idea thrills you, even when you know it shouldn't. But each time you think about the injustice of your entire situation, makes it easier to ignore the moral aspects of what you're about to do.

One of you is going to die. In your heart you know that it will come down to the two of you. You, too stubborn and too angry at the world to die easily, he, too well trained to contemplate anything other than victory. You're letting him win tonight. Because living in the face of your imminent death…that is your ultimate 'fuck you' for the Capitol.

He doesn't try to sweet-talk you. You like that. He grabs your right wrist and your left hip and pulls you flat against his hard body. For once, his towering height and tight muscles aren't meant to intimidate you. And, following his silent command, you recognize his obvious physical appeal by putting your hands on his chest and around his back to learn the contours of his body through the thin material of his white wife-beater.

He kisses you then. Not in a show of emotion, no. You know this is no more than alleviating stress and a secret terror neither of you will ever admit to feel. He kisses you with the same intensity as his soul-searching stares. And because you know this will be your last time, and also because you are genuinely attracted to him, you kiss him back and meet his intensity head-on.

When he bites, you lick. When he sucks, you nibble. You feel yourself getting hot and excited despite the cool wind on the roof and your flimsy nightgown. He sits down on a low stone bench and places you on his lap, grinding you into his own arousal. While your hands explore everything they can reach, he seems to be reluctant to let go of your ass. It makes you smile into your hungry kiss. You've noticed before that your ass is obviously his favorite part of you.

You keep grinding against his erection. More so when his lips and tongue and teeth start down your neck and over your collarbones. You gasp out loud when he bites your earlobe and finally moves his hands. One lowers the straps of your nightgown while the other pushes it further up, over your thighs.

He finds your overheated center, and not only his lips twitch in satisfaction at discovering just how wet you are already.

Moaning low in your throat you let him know that you don't want him to stop with his ministrations. He conveys his own appreciation of your actions with his heavy breathing and little groans. It is obvious that you both don't think much of unnecessary noise. Your bodies tell you all you need to know.

He bites the conjuncture of your neck and shoulder when your hand slips under the waistband of his sweatpants and around his erection. Only feeling his arousal and not seeing it, you don't think it is much longer than the few that you never wanted to see of your mother's patients. But it is much thicker. Before you can stop yourself, the girly thought flitters through your head that you are now holding the one weapon that he will probably not use during the Games.

You can't close your hand around the girth and wonder silently how it is supposed to fit in your small body.

Still, the feeling of silk over steel and thick veins, topped with a weeping mushroom head makes you even wetter and you want to watch it disappear in your tight sheath.

Growling softly, you try to pull his pants down further but, as long as he is sitting down, it does not work. He smirks into another searing kiss and pulls it down himself before replacing you on his lap. His hands – back on your ass – grind you into his freed erection again. He lets his head fall back, showing off more of his throat that seems to beg you to lick it. So you do it.

When he withdraws his first two fingers from your center, you moan in complaint. You were so close! But when he rips your underwear off you and moves his entire length along your slit twice, you forget all about your complaints. They aren't important.

Only the feeling of his big hands on your hips, lowering you – finally – down on his shaft is important in that moment. You both watch, mesmerized, as inch after inch disappears, stretching you wider than you would have thought possible. It is a close fit between pleasure and pain. He fills you completely, just holding you down, letting you get used to his size.

When you start squirming in his lap because the sweet burn of his girth isn't enough anymore, his hold on your hips strengthens and he begins rolling your lower body in tandem to his deep, steady thrusts. You hold on to his wide shoulders (you always had a thing for broad backs. They made you feel delicate in a good way) and tell him to give you more.

He lets you free and you use the opportunity to speed up the rocking of your hips. The friction feels amazing. You're thrown by just how good this forbidden fruit tastes. Even more so when he moves one of his hands between your bodies and tweaks your little nub of pleasure. His name tumbles from your lips and you clench up around him as you come, for the first time not from your own hand.

It is not the first time you have sex. But those three lazy afternoons with your best friend never sent you over the edge like this.

Lust-darkened blue eyes watch you ride out your orgasm until he can't hold out against the throbbing and tightening of your core anymore. He grabs the back of your neck and attaches his lips to your collarbone.

Because you ignore the low grumbled: "Kitten", you never have to tell him that it is the first time in the Capitol that you don't hate one of your numerous nicknames. His deep voice, laced with pleasure, could make almost anything sound good.

You climb off his lap and because your knees are weaker than you'd thought, you sit beside him for a while. You both silently tidy your clothes as much as you can. You decide not to comment when you see him pocketing your ripped panties, and just let your nightgown fall back to your knees after pulling up the straps.

When you finally decide to leave, he lets you go without another word, and like you, pretends like nothing ever happened the next time you see each other. Until two nights later, when he pushes you up against the wall next to the door of the roof and demands to know how you got your training score of eleven.

He shows you exactly why so many people can't shut up about angry sex. Unhappy about your refusal to tell him, he takes you hard and fast, and all you can do is hang on to his shoulders again, trying not to cry for joy.

Only Cinna will ever know about the mark he leaves just over your right breast and you don't know if anyone ever saw the slashmarks of your nails down his back.

When you kill him nineteen days later, you know his gruesome death is not the only thing about him that will haunt you for the rest of your life.

**A/N:** Alright, this was the first time I ever wrote anything from the second point of view. You can tell me if it sucked. I apologize for the word 'ass'. It kind of ruins the setting. I intentionally avoided the cruder terms for their actions, but 'butt' and 'behind' and whatever all sounded even worse to me. I know this pairing is extremely AU and would _never_ happen in canon but I love it…

Please let me know what you think?!


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